


we do things differently here

by toxica939



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 10:43:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11576445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxica939/pseuds/toxica939
Summary: just a room, in manchester, for no reason; snapshots of a lost weekend





	we do things differently here

Aaron likes Manchester. He likes the people, the buildings, the buzz about the place. It's a change of pace from Emmerdale and it's exactly what they need. Even if it is pissing it down.

He's got Robert all to himself; no desperate exes, no prying family. Just them. He's not going to think about anything else while they're here. He deserves to enjoy this. And Robert deserves a good time too. Aaron can't believe they're actually going to Vegas. _Vegas_. It's insane.

The hotel is decent enough, nothing fancy, close enough to the train station that Aaron knows his way around.

“Not bad,” Robert's saying, shrugging his coat off and doing what Robert always does when they stay somewhere: inspecting the tea and coffee making facilities. He's got a thing about the biscuit selection.

Aaron toes out of his shoes, then skins his jeans off for good measure; they're soaked round the bottom. “Chuck us something,” he says, climbing into the middle of the bed. It's perfect, fluffy white duvet and firm mattress.

Robert throws a packet toward the bed blindly, while he takes his own shoes off. Golden crunch oat biscuits. _Nice_.

“So what do you want to do tonight?” Aaron asks. It's dark out but it's not that late. “Could go for a beer somewhere?”

Robert nods. He's standing beside the bed now, wiping biscuit crumbs from the corner of Aaron's mouth, putting his own mouth there instead.

Aaron gets his hands up around Robert neck, pulls him down. They roll across the bed kissing, Robert's breath warm on Aaron's chin as he laughs. Aaron feels giddy, lit up inside from having all of Robert's focus on him, finally, just him. No one else.

They kiss until Aaron can't stand it any more, has to push Robert on to his back, hands sliding up the meat of his thighs, tugging Robert's belt open.

Aaron swallows him down, underwear just held out the way; no finesse, no waiting. Leaves Robert panting at the ceiling, hands in fists, mouth open in an _o_ of surprise, like he still can't believe that Aaron can do this to him.

It tastes like a victory when he comes on Aaron's tongue, completely beyond speech and melting, feels like Aaron's won.

:::

They wander down through the gay village, Robert obviously feeling generous. It's stopped raining but it's cold out, freezing even. Aaron stuffs his hands in the pockets of his coat, even though what he really wants to do is catch Robert's fingers between his own. He doesn't dare. Not even here, where no one knows them and no one would care. Old habits die hard.

“No flowers,” he interjects, halting the flow of Robert's wedding chatter.

Robert rolls his eyes. “It's a wedding,” he says, disbelieving. “You've got to have flowers.”

“Says who?”

Robert gapes at him but doesn't say anything. They keep walking, boots clumping on the cobbled street.

“Fine,” Robert relents, after a while. “No flowers. But not in the village, yeah? Let's do it somewhere proper.”

“Alright.” That's fine by Aaron. He'll marry Robert anywhere he can get him. He'll marry him in a bloody meadow of flowers if he has to. No need to tell him that though.

“And you're having a proper stag do,” Robert tells him. “Eastern Europe, too much beer, the lot. Adam owes you.”

Aaron laughs, letting himself imagine it. “And what about you?”

“Who am I going to invite?” Robert scoffs. “Bob and Bernice? Reb-” he cuts himself off, doesn't finish the thought.

Aaron's stomach rolls. The thought make him feels vicious, snarling and possessive. He fights it down. Not this weekend. Not any more.

It hangs heavy in the air between them though. Awkward and out of place. He fights that down as well.

“We could go in there,” he says, nodding to a bar up ahead, a distraction. He's been there before; decent beer on draught and he thinks there was a bar menu.

Robert's eyes linger on the rainbow flag hanging over the door, limp with lack of breeze. Aaron watches him hesitate. Another time he might have pushed. Might have dragged Robert inside, made it into a dare. Who's the brave one now, eh? Who's a big man? But not now. There's nothing to be gained tonight from forcing the issue.

He grabs hold of Robert's elbow, steers him left down a side street. “Come on,” he says. “Let's find somewhere quieter.”

:::

They end up in a dingy little bar on the edge of the Northern Quarter, frothy German beers in thick cut glasses on the table between them. They split a plate of buffalo wings, Aaron's cuticles staining orange and his lips numb.

“Do you remember the last time we came here?” Robert asks.

Aaron's about to shake his head, thinking Robert means the bar, when he remembers. Their first trip to Manchester together; executive suite overlooking the river, courtesy of Lawrence and whatever line Robert had spun him to secure a night away.

Aaron's overriding memory of the trip is having that song stuck in his head all night. The last thing playing on the radio when he'd parked up; _bulletproof, nothing to lose_.

But there are other things too: Robert in a fluffy white robe and his underwear, picking at the morning room service, tiny coffee cup cradled in long fingers. His eyes hot down Aaron's chest, intent. Aaron's body prickling with awareness.

There's flashes of Robert's knees riding against Aaron's ribs, urging him on; _come on, come on, keep going._ The taste of him fresh from the hotel shower, clean water under Aaron's tongue, peaked nipples and Robert squirming to get away. He remembers laughter, that wide, pink mouth grinning down at him, and freckle flushed skin.

He remembers a lot of things.

“Yeah,” is what he says. “That was a good night.”

Robert's nodding, sucking sauce from his thumb. “Yeah. God, you hummed that Titanium song the whole time. I had to give you a blow job in the middle of breakfast just to get you to shut up.”

He's chuckling, shaking his head fondly while Aaron stares at him, breath shocked still in his lungs. “You remember that?”

Robert quietens, eyes soft, and his hand is warm when it settles over Aaron's on the table. “I remember everything.”

:::

They stumble through the hotel room door, shushing each other, hands fisted in each other's coats. They only had a couple of drinks in the end but Aaron feels drunk all the same; light headed when Robert starts stripping him.

Aaron returns the favour, fumbling the buttons of Robert's shirt open, cold-stiff fingers making hard work of such a simple thing. He fights with it until he can push it from Robert's shoulders, wrestle it down his arms and away.

Robert's smiling when his mouth comes down over Aaron's, teeth pressing sharp between them until Aaron angles his head. Robert's arms come around his waist, pulling them together, belly to belly through the thin material of Aaron's t shirt.

He loses himself in kissing Robert, hands up around his jaw so he can put him where he wants him. He has to fight the urge to go up on his tip toes, hands sliding through the thick hair at the nape of Robert's neck instead. The kiss gets deeper, tongues slicking together, the easy rhythm they've always had. It makes Aaron's fingers tingle, his face feel hot.

He lets Robert walk him backwards towards the bed, goes easily when Robert gives him a push, sprawling back on the duvet with a whoosh of air. Robert moves over him, muscles in his shoulders shifting as he stops to nose up under Aaron's t shirt, smear a kiss near his belly button. By the time Robert's hovering over him, blocking out the light, Aaron's fully hard; dick straining at his boxers. He lifts his hips a little, seeking friction, but Robert's holding himself away.

“Robert,” Aaron says, not quite a whine but not quite not.

“What?” Robert's smile is teasing and he speaks in between biting kisses up Aaron's neck. “What do you want? Tell me.”

Aaron gets his hands down between them, cupping Robert through his jeans. He's hard against Aaron's palm, gratifyingly so, and his eyelashes flutter when Aaron tightens his grip.

Aaron licks out at the underside of Robert's jaw, hint of end of the day stubble rough against his tongue; rubs the flat of his palm down the length of Robert's dick, fingers curling down over his balls through thick denim.

“Take these off,” he says. He needs skin on skin, Robert's cock sliding through it's own slick in the crease of Aaron's hip, needs Robert as keyed up as he feels right now.

Robert doesn't move for a minute, hips rocking into Aaron's hand, lip caught up between his teeth. Aaron has to push at his chest to get him moving.

It doesn't take them long to get naked, falling back together with nothing between them. Aaron rolls them over, coming up on top of Robert, knuckles braced against the bed. He revels in the feel of him, the wide spread of him under Aaron's body; miles of alabaster skin ready to be messed up.

He pushes up, hands on Robert's shoulders. He wants to ride him like this; splayed across Robert's lap, sharp hipbones bruising the thin skin inside his thighs.

So he does; gets Robert lube-wet and slip sliding against him while Aaron fingers himself open. Robert's gasping beneath him, hands everywhere.

They take it slow, Aaron riding him like a wave, muscle bunching, hips rolling. Robert's eyes are black, swallowed by pupil and sightless, lost. It's not until Aaron lets his body drape forward, covering Robert, that something shifts. Connection snapping to life between them, somewhere between their sweat-slicked chests and the space between their teeth, lips catching on ragged breaths.

Nothing has ever felt like this.

:::

Aaron wakes to a hazy grey room, weak morning light finding gaps in the curtains. He's too hot, hotel heater pumping out warm air and Robert plastered against his back. He squirms around a bit, lifting the duvet to enjoy the rush of cold air over his knees.

Behind him, Robert grumbles, nose dragging through Aaron's hair, fingers tightening where they rest on Aaron's hip.

“Morning,” Robert says, voice shot through with gravel, enough that he coughs into Aaron's shoulder before he tries again. “Time's it?”

Aaron doesn't know, doesn't care. “Early,” he says. He finds Robert's hand under the covers, pulls it more firmly around him. “Go back to sleep.”

Robert hums, morning wood snugged tight to the small of Aaron's back. “M'awake now,” he mumbles, sounding like nothing of the sort.

Aaron blows a laugh out through his nose, turning in Robert's arms to greet him properly. The kiss is sour with morning breath, their lips dry and sticky. Robert's hand slides down to get a good grip on Aaron's arse, still smarting from the night before. It's difficult to mind though, when Robert's cock is nudging against his own, heavy thigh pushing between Aaron's, difficult to do anything but roll on to his back and open his legs again, take everything Robert's offering while the sun wakes up.

The day is stretching out before them, empty, theirs. It's more than enough to have Aaron pliant, hands relaxed against the sheets while Robert takes him apart, remakes him.

:::

They have brunch (lord knows when Aaron became the sort of bloke who eats brunch) in a little bar under a train line. It's got heavily postered walls and leather armchairs at the tables in the window.

Aaron has a full English with extra beans and a pint of the craft ale they've got on special just to watch Robert roll his eyes while he asks for a coffee, triple shot. They share the free paper Robert swiped from the hotel lobby; Robert flicking through the news while Aaron scans the sport section between mouthfuls. They don't talk; save for the odd look, the half smile Aaron can't seem to wipe away, you wouldn't even know they were together necessarily.

Robert's eyes flick up when a train rumbles overhead, the walls of the place shuddering.

“Remind me why we had to come all the way down here for food,” Aaron says. They'd walked for a good twenty minutes through the centre of town, there's loads of other places they could have gone.

Robert shrugs. “I like it in here. And the science museum's not far.”

He says it with a hopeful grin, like Aaron can ever say no to him.

Aaron makes a show of huffing anyway, slumping back in his chair with a hand on his full belly. “Right. Go on then,” he says. “I suppose.”

Robert's eyes light up. “Really?”

:::

The museum isn't particularly Aaron's idea of a good time, but it's decent. There's a steam train and a hanger full of war planes, it's interesting enough. And more than worth it for the way Robert comes to life. He drags Aaron between exhibits, cheeks pinked up like the children milling around their legs.

It's Robert, in the end, who catches Aaron's hand, links their fingers together as they head back out on to the street. The light's already fading and it's only the afternoon.

“Thanks,” Robert says. “For bringing me here.”

Aaron shrugs, feeling shy, guilt hovering at the edge of it all. “It's not exactly Vegas.”

“No,” Robert agrees, because he's a dickhead. “But it's been great. Just what we needed.”

“Not over yet,” Aaron points out. He nods across the road, hungry again. “Chips?”

Robert lets him lead the way, hands swinging between them; cold fingers over warm knuckles.

They've nowhere to be right now but with each other. And there's always time for chips.

 

**Author's Note:**

> join me on tumblr, i'm vckaarrob


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